


Coping in the Aftermath

by JaggedCliffs



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Dehumanization, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-08 22:55:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4323933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaggedCliffs/pseuds/JaggedCliffs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of "What if?" ficlets playing around in the missing scenes of Thor 2 and the post-Thor 2 'verse. Warning: Most of these probably won't have happy endings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Father would be proud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin regrets.

He wondered if this was Laufey’s revenge.

He wondered if Jotunheim’s King was laughing at him from Helheim’s dank halls, triumphant at last. After over a thousand years, his vengeance had finally come to pass.

All it had taken was Odin’s one moment of mercy - a senseless, unthinking, foolish mercy - in a place where none should have been given.

He wondered if Laufey had known the misery and destruction it would bring. He wondered if there was a reason Laufey had left it to die.

He wondered if Laufey had _wanted_ Odin to pick it up.

And Odin had been taken in by the cries and carried the snake into his home.

How Odin had been a _fool_.

He should have seen it. All those times he had caught Laufey’s face in the child’s, from the curves of his cheek to his smirk, he should have _realized_. All the mischief, the lies, the trickery, how they had only grown as the child aged – it _should_ have been proof. Yet Odin had let the affection in his heart overrule those misgivings, those worries. And he had let himself be lulled into complacency, believing the child as harmless as any other.

Now see where his weakness had brought him, all these years later: crumpled at the foot of his own throne, Gungnir fallen from his hand, as weak in body now as he had been in heart.

He could hear Gungnir raised off the floor, hear the soft footsteps as they made their way up the stairs. Then he could see _it_. He could see Laufey’s vengeance, staring down at him with blank, impassive eyes – eyes _Odin_ had gifted it, eyes Odin had let deceive him time and time again.

Laufey’s spawn stared with its false eyes as Odin felt his body giving way to the Odinsleep.

His final Sleep.

He knew he would not wake from it this time.

But he didn’t have to be a seer to know what would happen. With Odin’s spear, Laufey’s spawn would take _Odin’s_ throne, wear _Odin’s_ face, command _Odin’s_ people. And when Thor returned, it would fulfill its father’s vengeance and wipe the line of Odin from the Nine.

He wondered if Laufey thought it worth his life and those lost to the Bifrost’s power, just to see Odin - to see _Asgard –_ brought so low.

Odin stared up at the snake he had cradled to his breast, the vengeance wrapped in Ás skin that he had coddled for a thousand years. With all the strength he could muster in his last breath, he snarled, “ _Laufey would be proud_.”

As his eye fought to stay open, he saw bright green eyes widened, lips part, body flinch back. He thought he saw hurt cross its false face. A hurt he thought he had seen so long ago in Asgard’s vault, when Odin’s heart had been soft.

But of course, that hurt was a lie.

It should be pleased. It was Laufey’s retribution. Laufey’s wrath. Laufey’s hatred and destruction and revenge given form in skin and bones.

It could not hurt.

Odin could not hurt it anymore.

Odin closed his eye.


	2. Sincerity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor returns to Asgard after his extended stay on Midgard, and Loki inadvertently learns something everyone on Asgard knew but him.

He found Thor, of all places, in the library.

Which was unusual in and of itself – sometimes, Loki had to wonder if Thor even knew what the library was _for_. The only times Loki could recall Thor entering it of his own free will was when Thor decided Loki wasn't paying enough attention to him and would march in to drag Loki away from one of his comfortable perches and into the training ring or out hunting or on some inane quest with his bumbling friends.

No, what was even more odd was that once arriving on Asgard after dabbling about on Midgard for years, Thor had headed _straight_ to the library. He hadn't come striding into the throne room, red cape snapping out behind him, and announcing they should have a great feast for his accomplishments against that robot Heimdall had reported seeing on Midgard. He hadn't boasted of its great prowess even though the thing had been made by _humans_ , nor soaked up the praise he had missed when he absconded to Midgard after the Convergence. He hadn't shown up at the feasting hall, nor gone down to the training yards with his friends, nor even said more than a hello to his “father” before disappearing into the stacks.

Which, Loki knew, was a stroke of luck, and he'd be a fool not to take advantage of it. The more time Thor spent with Loki, the easier it would be for Thor to see through Loki's disguise. And the more time Loki spent with Thor, the harder it would to be keep up his facade, to keep him from slipping into old patterns.

Yet here Loki was, being a fool.

Again.

It didn't even make _sense_ – if Thor didn't think whatever he was doing important enough to tell his own _father_ , then it shouldn't be important enough interest Loki.

But, barely more than two days after Thor's return, Loki still ended up winding his way through the shelves and familiar paths, down to where the librarian had told him Thor had chosen a table for his research.

_Research_. Loki wanted to scoff. As if Thor had the patience or concentration for _research_ –

Loki rounded the last corner before his destination. And stopped in his tracks.

The desk was piled with books. Not just piled, but stacked high enough Loki could only just see Thor's bulk over-top the heaps. Through one of the gaps, Loki spotted a quill and opened journal, smudged with ink and the opened page covered in Thor's careless scrawl – though it seemed Thor had taken a teensy bit more care with his scrawl than usual. And then there was Thor himself, his golden head bent over a great, big, dusty text, his hair brushing against its surface.

The sight was so – so – so _Loki_ , the exact kind of thing Thor and his friends has teased and mocked him for, wondering if they should start planning a wedding because Loki's face was about as close to his book as Fandral's was with his lovers, or if he was trying to build himself a new home out of the stacks, or if he had forgotten that the training ring wasn't inside of the library and that books were not swords.

Loki wanted to scream. He wanted to hit something.

( _Because of course when_ _ **Thor**_ _did it, when_ _ **Thor**_ _took to reading and studying, no one mocked him or told him how_ _ **unmanly**_ _it was coop himself in with a book when he could be out there fighting and adventuring–_ )

Loki neither screamed nor hit anything. He arranged his features into the inscrutable, impassive expression that so often graced the Allfather's face ( _especially around Loki_ ), and started towards a gap in the books.

“When I heard my son returned home, I expected to see more of him, not less,” Loki said, allowing a hint of Odin's oh-so-familiar irritation into his voice ( _or maybe it was just familiar to Loki_ ).

Thor jerked his head up, blinking as if he had come out the darkness and into blinding light. When he focused on Loki's face, he gave a tired, sheepish smile, and for a moment, Loki could pretend the smile was just for him, that Thor was smiling up at his little brother like nothing had changed.

Then Thor opened his mouth and ruined it.

“Hello, Father,” Thor said, and stretched, lifting his arms high over his head and arching his back. Loki could hear the joints cracking, and when Thor's back gave a particularly loud pop, Thor winced. “I don't know how Loki did it,” he said with a smile and a cheery light in his eyes, until his eyes widened in remembrance. The light died along with smile, and his expression sobered.

Thor almost looked lost.

Guilt pinched low in Loki's stomach. He ignored it.

Acting as if Thor had left off at his greeting – because Odin would hardly care enough to discuss his dead, disappointment of a war trophy – Loki asked, “And what has prompted this...” _Hypocrisy._ “...Foray into the library, so soon after your return?”

Thor huffed out a breath and rubbed a hand over eyes Loki realized looked tired and red. “It was simply a – a matter that occurred to me. On Midgard.”

“Hmmm.” Loki ran his eyes – or rather, eye – over the titles he saw on the desk. “And _Midgard_ prompted you seek out topics on ancient, celestial matters?” For that was what covered the desk: collections of half-forgotten bits knowledge concerning the beginnings – or suppositions on the end – of Asgard. Scattered amidst those were titles of the limited knowledge Asgard had of those worlds residing outside of Yggdrasil's limbs.

(Loki probably knew more than all those books combined now.)

Thor glanced to the side, though not out of anything bashful, or embarrassed. No, it more like...unease. Or dread.

Odd.

Still not quite looking at Loki, Thor said, “It is...complicated, and I am not altogether sure of...”

He trailed off, eyes glassy, and Loki's curiosity itched at him. Which was not good, as it made him wish to stay, and the longer he stayed, the more of a fool it made him. He knew _what_ Thor was studying, if not the _why_ , and everyone would be better off if Loki quit while he was still ahead.

(And living.)

But against his better judgement, Loki found himself asking, “Not altogether sure of what?”

Thor blinked, before slowly turning back towards Loki. His hands fidgeted with a motion Loki would call nervousness, if Thor had ever had the forethought for it.

“Father,” Thor said, paused, then in a rush asked, “Do you know what lies inside the Void. Or – or how one might...reach into it?”

Loki froze. His mouth felt dry. At his sides his hands trembled, and his insides quivered and lurched.

( _There's nothing inside it, Thor. There's nothing and nothing and_ –)

Fighting to keep his face neutral, he said dryly, “I believe you missed your chance to receive an answer to those questions after Savartalfheim. Though I doubt you would have been given one anyway.”

A flash of pain surged across Thor's face, but it was quickly stifled, replaced by resignation. The expression did not look right on Thor's face, Loki thought, and then hastily pushed it aside.

( _Fool, fool, fool–_ )

“I know,” Thor replied quietly, “but what you told me before...I'm more sure now than ever that it was not _right_.”

He looked up at Loki with insistent blue eyes, and Loki realized he was in trouble. If Thor pushed, and Loki could not discuss whatever he and Odin had talked about _before_...

Forcing disinterest into his expression, he said, “What I told you before is all I know, and I doubt these books could tell you anything else.”

Instead accepting the words with a nod, Thor's face hardened, and Loki knew he had made a mistake. Thor stared at him with steely eyes, and Loki almost expected Thor to launch himself at Loki, one hand going for his neck and the other balled into a fist.

But Thor was speaking to Odin, not Loki, and instead of growling in anger, a looked of sorrow crossed over Thor's face. He bowed his head, running a finger over the gloss of the print inside of the book.

Loki was at a loss. Something in his answer had been wrong, but for the life of him Loki couldn't figure out _what_.

Loki had never thought he'd end up being a more of an idiot than Thor, but evidently he had outdone himself. He never should have come here, he should have left well enough alone–

Before Loki could come up with some way to extricate himself, Thor stilled his finger on the gloss, then pressed his hand flat against the page.

Eyes on the book, Thor whispered, “You still think you are right, then? About why Loki did it?”

Loki stared.

Did _what?_

He nearly had to bite down on his tongue to keep from asking that question out loud. There could have been a hundred things that Loki had _done_ , a hundred more that Odin might believe himself “right” about.

Pitching his voice somewhere between irritation and exasperation – for what _else_ would Odin express when speaking about Loki – he asked, “Why does that _matter_ now?”

Thor glanced up sharply, his eyes narrowing. Ignoring Loki's question, he said, “Mother never believed your reasons, did she?”

Loki silently cursed Thor for not letting the matter _be_ , and before he could properly think it through, he said, “Frigga believes what she–”

He stopped. _Believes_ , he had said, but it was _believed_ now.

And then came that _ache_ in his chest, the one he desperately tried to avoid feeling yet never truly left, the one that felt like the sword that had punched through his chest on Svartalfheim, yet remained hollow and gaping all this time later. He saw an echo of the same ache in Thor's face, and he tried not to think of how Thor's expression mirrored the exact same loss as when he thought of Loki's false death.

Voice subdued, Loki corrected himself, “She believed what she wished. I could hardly have changed her mind when she had already made it up.”

Thor nodded slowly, accepting. He crossed his arms and leaned them against the table as his graze grew distant. “I didn't know what to believe,” he said softly. “Everyone accepted your explanation so easily, and though I did not _want_ to... After Midgard, after everything he _did_ there, I _couldn't_ –”

His voice broke, and Loki could only stare, dumbfounded, as Thor ran a hand across wet, gleaming eyes. When he removed his hand, his eyes met Loki's, and though they were dry they were filled with grief. “I couldn't discount your words,” he said, nearly whispering, “not when it all made sense. Not when I thought there was the possibility they may be true.”

Fear and curiosity warred within Loki. He wanted to know what this was about, what Odin thought himself so “ _right_ ” about.

He didn't want to know what _made sense_ to them all after Midgard, what made sense about _Loki_.

(At least it couldn't be his Jotun heritage – Mother could hardly have disbelieved _that_.)

As Thor continued to stare, Loki realized he was waiting for a response, some acknowledgement of his dilemma. And because Loki didn't know what else to say, because he was sure it's how Odin would feel – completely dismissive, completely indifferent – he repeated, “It hardly matters _now_ , Thor.”

Shock, followed by anger flashed across Thor's face, and for a moment he looked as if he really would launch himself at Loki, or at least overturn the desk and send the books flying. But Thor settled for clenching his fists and growling, “But it _does_ matter. It _matters_ , because if you're wrong then we _disgrace_ Loki's memory, and more than that, it means there is more at stake here than we thought.”

Loki's mind whirled, and he couldn't help the unease that crawled down his spine. _Disgrace_ , Thor said, but what could be more disgraceful than what they already knew?

“Explain,” he managed to say, voice steady if not as demanding as he had hoped.

Thor's anger seemed to diminish, though his body remained tense. “I think–” Thor began, then stopped as his eyes flickered to the side, before settling on Loki again alight with resolve. “I think I was right when I first confronted Loki on Midgard – someone _was_ controlling him.”

Loki froze, not sure if he wanted to turn and flee or be sick on the floor. Or worse, _compliment_ Thor.

_And who controls the would-be-king?_ Thor had asked, and Loki hadn't thought Thor had remembered that. Had Thor found out? Did he _know_ ? How much – did he know _who_ –

Loki couldn't tell whether he felt more shame or relief at that thought.

“And?” Loki asked archly to disguise his breathlessness.

“ _And?_ ” Thor looked incredulous. “It changes _everything_ , Father. And I know that there's the possibility Loki sought out allies afterwards and the deal went wrong for him, but–” Thor broke off abruptly, and he turned his head to focus on a far-off window.

When Thor spoke again, his voice was muffled by tears. “But I believe it wasn't his plan at all.”

Loki let his false face to look pensive as his mind, as he tried to follow the leaps in Thor's logic, in his jumps from anger to sorrow. Had Thanos finally shown his face without Loki knowing? Or had Thor deluded himself into believing Loki had been controlled with the sceptre as well? That would certainly explain why Thor was _mourning_ all of sudden, if he felt guilty.

Not sure which way to push the conversation, and telling himself the grief on Thor's face meant nothing (though something in his stomach twisted and clenched at the sight), Loki began, “Thor–”

“ _No_ ,” Thor interrupted, shaking his head. He turned back to Loki, and though his eyes were wet again, they burned with the same resolve as before. “No, I _know_ what you're going to say – you forget I was _there_ with you when Heimdall told us Loki knew secret paths beyond the Bifrost. But that doesn't mean Loki also knew ways out of the Void – the pathway he took us through was embedded in a cliff in Asgard, not something he could find within the _Void_ . When Loki fell – when he _let go_ –” Thor's face crumpled, and he when he spoke again, his voice was tired and broken. “When Loki let go, he did not know his way out.”

Loki's mind blanked.

He did not understand.

There was supposed to be no way out of the Void. It was meant to tear anything that entered it to pieces.

( _It was why he had chosen it_.)

Did Thor not know that?

Didn't _Odin_ know that?

Thor was speaking again before Loki had puzzled it out. “It was _not_ a ruse,” Thor insisted, his eyes beseeching Loki – beseeching Odin – to believe him. “On the bridge, Loki hadn't already planned to take Midgard if he failed. It was _real_ , as real as we thought it was then. After he first fe– after he let go.”

A strange, numb feeling spread through Loki's body, spreading out from his core (from the space where his heart would be if monsters had one). His head buzzed, and his ears felt as if they had been stuffed with cotton.

Thor kept talking, oblivious. Running a hand through his hair, he said, “And I've thought about what you said about – about how it was convenient for him to fake his death, because then we wouldn't even _think_ to look for him, not until it was too late. I cannot – I have no evidence disprove it. Except–”

Thor turned the full force of his gaze on Loki, and yet Loki felt nothing, his body frozen to its centre (just as it always was beneath this skin), or maybe he was empty, utterly hollow–

“He _died_ to save me, on Svartalfheim.” Thor said it as if was a plea. “Can't you believe that what happened on the Bifrost was _not_ a ploy? That someone _else_ pulled him from the Void, while Loki never planned to leave? Because I _know_ now there is someone else behind Loki, and my time on Midgard has made it clear. In the past few years, four Infinity Stones have reappeared, and there's someone behind it, a being who is perhaps _playing_ with us...”

There was a low whine in Loki's ears. Thor's mouth moved, but Loki couldn't hear a word he said. It barely registered that Thor had said four Stones, not three.

_A ploy_ , Thor had said.

_A ruse._

_Ploy, ruse, not **real** –_

When he let go of Gungnir, when he let himself fall into the Void hoping it would swallow him up–

They didn't think it was real, they had thought it was just another _trick_ –

_Faked **.** _

( _ **Faked**_ _, like now, only like then it was an accident, he didn't_ _ **mean**_ _to keep living_ –)

( _But Thor would never believe that now_.)

Loki knew, if Thor ever found out he still lived, Thor would never believe that both deaths had been genuine. He only would believe his death on Svartalfheim, like his attempted death on the Bifrost, were both spiteful, unforgivable _lies and–_

( _“If you betray me I'll kill you.”_ )

( _Thor would kill him if he knew_.)

And then Thor was right there in front of him, and Loki almost flinched, taking a step back, sure that Thor somehow _knew_ , that any moment Thor would take out Mjolnir and –

But Thor was only showing him a book, its miniscule text blurred before Loki's eyes, and Thor's distant voice said, “See, the original owner can still retain the power of the Stone so long as it remains contained in some form, like with the sceptre and the Mind Stone...”

Loki let the words wash over him, seeing nothing.

How long had they believed it? How long had _Thor_ believed it? Had _Mother_ –

No, no, _not_ Mother, Thor said she _hadn't_ , but _he_ had, and _Odin_ –

They were _there_. Thor and Odin both, they were _there_ , _watching_ him. They _watched him fall_ , and _then_ they–

_Everyone_ , Thor had said.

“...doubt Loki knew what he was holding, else he would have tried to free it from its cradle. You can at _least_ agree with that, can't you Father?”

_Everyone_ believed it, did that mean Odin had told all of _Asgard_ –

It could _hardly_ be known that a son of Odin had taken the coward's way out, even if it was the lesser son. It could _hardly_ be believed that a monster had tired to rid itself from realms–

( _Even if it was to rid the realms of those monsters–_ )

“Father?”

Loki blinked, and noticed Thor was staring at him, expectant, confused. And Loki realized whatever expression was on his face, it could not be appropriate for Odin. And try as he might, Loki could not seem to get his face to move right. Frantically, he settled an illusion over his face to match Odin's, then urged it's expressions to morph into Odin's normal, calm, unreadable mask.

He needed to say something. He needed to leave. He needed to say what Odin would say, what Odin would _believe_.

( _How could you, how could you, how could you, how–_ )

“Father?” Thor asked again, worry in his voice.

“Speak to me when you have some _real_ evidence,” Odin's voice said, in Odin's dismissive, scornful tone, and Thor's face fell even as rage sparked in the depths of those clear blue eyes.

But Loki was already turning, striding away with Odin's swift, assured steps of king who knew, down to his very marrow, that he was _right_. He strode through empty aisles and then marched through the library doors into the golden halls, each step purposeful – for Odin _always_ had a purpose, never did or said anything _without_ a purpose, and he walked and walked and walked and walked.

He wanted to run.

( _All this time, all this time, Odin had told them–_ )

Odin's steps were steady and measured, taking him past his subjects who bowed their heads to him, as was proper.

He wanted to scream.

( _ **Right**_ _, they all thought Odin was_ _ **right**_ _, and Thor had thought he was_ _ **right**_ _before_ –)

Odin's voice stayed silent, his back straight, and chin held high, like the king he was.

He wanted to be sick.

( _All just lies and tricks and nothing more because how could a_ _ **monster**_ _ever_ –)

Odin's face remain calm, implacable.

He felt sick.

( _But he had_ _ **tried**_ _to die, he had_ _ **wanted**_ _–_ )

Loki was going to be sick.

Bile burned at the back of his throat as his stomach heaved. Odin's large, measured steps took him around the corner, around another, until he reached a deserted room. Then he shapeshifted into innocuous, bland-faced pageboy before falling to his hands and knees and retching. Vomit spewed onto the golden floor in a puddle of watery yellow. He managed one gulp of air, before more came up, spreading across the floor.

Loki's stomach quivered and clenched and his arms and legs shook, but nothing more came up. He spat out a mouthful of saliva and whatever else still lingered in his mouth, then vanished the sick from around his mouth and off the floor. Avoiding the spot where the puddle used to be, he dragged himself up onto trembling legs.

He shapeshifted again, and for an instant, Loki, Asgard's fallen prince and Odin's false son, was visible within Asgard's walls. Then he hid himself from all eyes, “all-seeing” or otherwise.

And Loki ran.

He ran, because he had no where else to go.

He ran, because he knew where he had been going all this time.

He ran until he came up to a pair of ornate, golden doors, one he normally only entered a few times every few decades, doors that were normally carefully guarded whenever Loki had need to enter them.

They were doors Loki had been visiting more frequently in the past few years, doors that currently remained unguarded now because, as far as anyone could tell, there was no reason to.

Not unless the Allfather entered the Odinsleep.

Loki shoved through the doors, not caring that they looked as if they had swung open of their own accord, and pushed them closed as soon as he was inside. As soon as they shut, Loki let his invisibility fall away, at least for any within the room.

Chest heaving, legs and arms and hands still trembling, Loki turned to the empty bed that took up the centre of the room. Then, with a thought, Loki dissolved the glamour.

Soft, golden light bled into sight above bed, along with the heavy furs that draped its metal frame.

And, in the centre of the furs, lay Odin.

He wore the same armour as when Loki had come to him under the guise of a guard. His eye was closed in the Odinsleep. It had not opened in nearly two years.

Loki had assured it stayed that way.

In the silence that enveloped the room, Loki realized he was still panting, his harsh, heavy gulps of air breaking the silence, and he did not think it was just from running. He took a step towards the bed, and his leg nearly collapsed beneath him.

Now that he was here, Loki found he could no longer run.

Eyes fixed the figure on the furs, Loki stumbled across the room, somehow making it to the bench next to the bed. He knelt against it, letting it hold him up as he planted his hands on the edges of the bed, palms interrupting the golden glow arcing up from the sides.

He stared at Odin.

He stared for a long moment, mind blank.

“I tried to die,” he whispered.

His voice shook, making the words nearly indecipherable.

He attempted to breathe in, to steady his voice, but it ended up in a gasp. The quaver only worsened when he whimpered, “I _wanted_ to die, and I _tried_ –”

His throat grew thick with tears, and he had to break off, though not before an embarrassing whining sound escaped his throat. His eyes were wet, and the sight of Odin before him grew blurry.

He _hated_ how easily the tears came, how his throat closed up until only pathetic mewling noises emerged, how _weak_ he had become, _again_. _Again_ , he had been brought low, almost supplicating himself before Odin, where he once been strong before, where he had not even flinched at Odin's words when he returned from Midgard.

But now he couldn't stop the tears, couldn't stop the way his legs felt too frail to take his weight, couldn't stop the way he trembled like a leaf in a gale.

Because of Odin.

Like before, like when he had been nothing more than a snivelling child scrabbling after the barest scraps of affection, _Odin_ had brought him to this wreck.

Because of _Odin_. Because of his _lies_ , because when Loki had all but _begged_ Odin to take him back, _he_ –

“It was because of _you_ ,” he snarled, and it like a valve opened in his throat and the words poured out. “All because of _you_ , I wanted to be _dead_ , I wanted to _feel_ nothing, _be_ _nothing_. It's what you wanted, wasn't it , that I was _nothing_ , in body and mind as much as I was _nothing_ in your eye.”

_Nothing_ did not hurt. _Nothing_ did not have to feel, or think.

“You _watched me fall_ ,” he spat, “you and Thor both _watched_ me, and then managed to convince him that–”

( _Just a trick, all a trick–_ )

( _“You are incapable of sincerity”_ –)

( _Even your death is insincere._ )

( _Both of them._ )

“ _Why?_ ”

The word tore from his throat. He half-clambered onto the bed, with one knee still on the bench and the other on the lip of bed, and reached out to grasp Odin's collar. Dragging Odin towards him, he screamed at him, “ _Why_? What was the _point_? You already locked me up in your _cage_ , and you hardly needed them all to hate me _more_. So why did you...”

A horrible thought occurred to Loki, and he wanted to vomit again.

He let go of Odin and fell back against the bench hard, knees clunking against metal, yet he could barely feel it.

“Did you really believe it?” he whispered. The air seemed to close up around him, suffocating him, and no matter how hard he tried to gulp in air there wasn't enough to fill his lungs. “After what I said–” he gasped out, “After I – I – I did it all for you. I just wanted you to – to–”

( _To love me, to care for me, to see me as you did Thor._ )

“I would have done _anything_ for you.” He _hated_ the pleading note in his voice, but he couldn't stop talking ( _begging_ ). “I was _stupid_ enough to think I could somehow _please_ you, and I let go because I _couldn't_ , and _you_ thought it was a _lie_ –”

Loki stared blankly at Odin's furs as he tried to breathe. It had been for nothing. Letting go meant nothing, when it had been reduced to nothing but another _trick_.

And even though Odin had _watched_ , he had believed it a lie. He had brushed aside all other explanations, even though he _knew_ , like Loki did, that there were supposed to be no ways out of the Void, at least not from the inside, not under Loki's own power. All because he–

( _“There's always a purpose to everything your father does”_ )

_No_. _No_ , Odin was too crafty accept so simple a justification. He wouldn't favour one possibility and dismiss all others, in case – as Thor had figured out – there was someone else out there, someone with enough power to threaten even Asgard.

He _knew_ there could be another explanation, and still he _lied_.

And Odin had a reason for it.

“What was it?” Loki growled, eyes flicking back to Odin's face as his hands tightened on the bed's frame. “What was your _grand purpose_ behind this excuse? Did you need an explanation, for how the prince that 'fell' ended up leading an army on Midgard? Except...” Loki narrowed his eyes as he mused out loud. “Except that couldn't have been the only reason, else you wouldn't have told Thor and Mother. So then why...”

A chill fell over his body, like his monstrous skin had emerged and frozen whatever warmth was left in him, as it all fell into place. He stumbled backwards from the bed, his legs catching him before he could fall. Softly, he asked. “Or did you do it to assure everything I do would always be seen as a lie?”

He stared at Odin, at his inscrutable, unreadable face that had vexed Loki's all those years as he waited for the pride that shone whenever Odin looked at Thor ( _never Loki_ ). And his hands curled into fists as white-hot, blinding _rage_ burrowing beneath his flesh.

“So it was it _spite_ , then, was it?” he bit out. “No one could trust a liar to be sincere. No matter how desperate I seemed, how truthful I tried to be, no one would believe me, not when the _Allfather_ claimed my every deed a _lie_. You couldn't even let me have my death, you _couldn't let any of it be_ _ **your**_ _fault._ ”

_Hate_ bubbled over, felt like it was filling him, spilling from his skin.

“ _I LET YOU LIVE_ ,” Loki howled at Odin's limp body. “ _After everything, I let you LIVE_. I could have slit your throat, I could have made you look an old beggar that no one would have looked at twice if I left you for the dogs, or dumped your body in a river and let it bloat and swell and rot. But _no_ , I let you _live_ , and maybe when I'm done with Thanos, when he is finally gone and I am _free_ , maybe I'll let you have the damned throne back if I don't need it. You think I want your cage of life, your weak, old body?”

A shaky laugh escaped Loki and his feet began to move, taking him around the perimeter of Odin's bed. “I even made the people _love_ you again, I made them _respect_ you. You think they all forgot what happened when Malekith attacked?” he sneered, glancing over his shoulder at Odin. “How Thor saved us all nigh singlehandedly, while their _brave, valiant king_ sat on his throne and tried to shoot down his own _son_ – their _hero_ – from the sky?”

It had been difficult enough to claw his way back into the nobles and advisers good opinions, to convince them that Odin only been driven by grief, and that despite his age he could still be counted on as king; it had been more difficult to stop them from sitting back and awaiting the day Thor took the throne.

Somehow, Thor had managed to show up Loki even when Loki _wasn't_ Loki.

“I should have let you keep the bloody throne and deal with them all yourself,” he spat, then turned away and resumed walking. “ _You're_ the one who keeps on going _on_ and _on_ about owning up to mistakes. Or does that include everyone except yourself? _You_ , our wise king, must _never_ be wrong.”

Loki spun on heel to face the bed, now at the foot of it, and raised an eyebrow. “I've even been _helping_ Asgard, did you know that? You should, considering you _supposedly_ can see all that goes on from that bed of yours. Did you honestly believe I would allow Thanos to go about his business, after what he _did_ to _me_? Did you think I would let him get his hands on the Gauntlet and Stones and kill us all? What would be the point in that?” Loki smiled, lips stretching his face in a way he knew made him look skull-like, and he clasped his hands behind his back as he returned to circling the bed.

“I'm going to destroy him,” he said, “and with all of Asgard and its allies at my command, it will be so much _easier_. Then, when Thanos is defeated, when we have won, I will let the realms know that all along it had been _me_ , not their Allfather, that led them into victory.” The smile on his face lost its sharpness, until it almost felt genuine. “And if Asgard not accept me back, if they are still ungrateful...”

(If they did not think him _worthy..._ )

Loki shrugged. “Then with Thanos gone, I will be free to wander as I wish. There's a universe beyond Yggdrasil's cramped little branches, and I plan to see so much _more_ of it.”

The smile relaxed into something wistful. He could leave without fear of Thanos finding him, be free of Asgard and its stifling sameness, go where he wished–

Except now, he realized, he couldn't.

The smile faded, and Loki stopped in his tracks.

Loki couldn't reveal himself now.

Thor would kill him if he knew.

( _I didn't mean it, I'm sorry, I thought I was dying,_ _ **please**_ _–_ )

Odin had burned and salted that path for him, had stolen what little truth and sincerity Loki had left to give. No matter what he did, or tried to do, it would only ever be seen as a lie.

Thor could never know.

But when Odin woke, he would tell Thor, and Thor would kill Loki. _Asgard_ would kill Loki.

Even if Loki killed Odin first, unless he pretended “Odin” died during the assault on Thanos, unless he left no clues behind – which was too risky to leave to chance – Thor would find out what had happened to Odin.

And Thor would kill him. Asgard would kill him.

Asgard would never accept Loki. No matter what he did, they would never take him back. They already believed, so very easily, that letting go had been a trick, that he had already been plotting more destruction. Loki could kill Thanos singlehandedly, and they would only think it some other ploy.

(Thor would only ever think it a lie.)

Loki had no choice but to stop Thanos. And yet if Loki did not remain dead, if he didn't pretend it had been Odin's victory all along, if he didn't either remain in Odin's place or wake the Allfather and turn tail and flee, Asgard would kill him.

(Thor would kill him.)

All this time, he had been _deluding_ himself. Asgard would never let him go free. So long as they knew he drew breath, they would hunt him.

Loki was not free. Loki would never be free.

(Maybe he should let Asgard kill him. Let Thor kill him.)

He should have left Asgard, instead of confronting Odin, when he awoke on Svartalfheim's dirt–

Except them Thanos would have found him.

He should leave now, gather what Stones he could–

Except without Asgard's help, he had no chance of stopping Thanos.

He should – he should – he should–

“I should let Asgard _burn_ ,” Loki said, and felt a grin crawl across his face.

Oh yes, he could still defeat Thanos, but he could destroy Asgard doing it. Let them bankrupt themselves preparing, let them thrown themselves again and again against Thanos forces, looking for a worthy death rather than a painless victory.

Loki looked up at Odin's prone form, and the grin felt as if it might crack his face in two. “You'll have to die in the confrontation, of course,” he told Odin. “I'll have to figure out _how_ later, but with enough planning, I think it might just work. And when it's all over–” Giddiness rose within Loki, and he had to break off for a moment to keep his voice under control, so he could taunt, “When it's over, you'll be known as the king who led Asgard into ruin – if there's still anyone left to tell that tale.”

He laughed, wildly, high-pitched, and suddenly found himself rather light-headed. He sat down on the bench, where he had sat what felt like centuries ago when he had sat by his father's side, his mother opposite him, and tried to figure how to make Odin love him.

“I wonder who will take Asgard's place at the top next?” Loki pondered. “Should I try to push the Vanir in? I'm sure they would be happy, after you razed their realm and married one of their princesses.” Another laugh broke out of him, even as tried shove aside the memory of Mother telling him how she came to Asgard with a hint of sadness in her eyes, and the more bitter tale Hogun had told.

“Or maybe the dwarfs?” he suggested breathlessly, forcing himself to forget. “If they ever came out of their caves, I'm sure they would do a good enough job. Or the _Ljósálfar_ , for they must be itching for _their_ rule, like the _Dökkálfar_ long before them. Or maybe–” he broke off in a giggle. “Or maybe the Jotnar, could you imagine? The _frost giants_ ,” Loki snickered, “ _ruling_ the Nine, on the highest seat of power _–_ ”

Laughter burst out of him, and he nearly doubled over. “A frost giant, sitting on Asgard's _throne_ ,” he gasped out.

(“ _You could never have a_ _ **frost giant**_ _sitting on the throne of Asgard_.”)

“If a _frost giant_ ruled, if it ever had a throne,” Loki breathed out in the spaces between giggles, “it would probably only lead the realms into _ruin_.”

( _Because I'm the monster parents tell their children about at night._ )

Loki laughed and laughed and wasn't sure when the laughter turned to tears and rasping sobs, or maybe they had been both all along.

Somehow, he ended up slumped against the bed, head drooping against his chest because it was too much effort to keep it up.

“I tried to die. I tried to die because of you. I tried to die because of you.” The same words blubbered from his lips, and he couldn't stop them. He didn't even know when they had started. “I tried to die because of you, I tried to die, I tried...”

He should have died in the Void. He should have died on Svartalfheim. He knew he would die when this was over.

Death was the only freedom would ever find.

He should have accepted that, before he fooled himself into thinking Asgard would give him anything else.

( _“I know, I know, I'm a fool.”_ )

“I tried to die,” he mumbled, as if it meant something now. “I tried to die, I – I wish I _had_ died. I want to be nothing. I want to feel nothing–”

“I can arrange for that.”

Loki jerked his head up. Which was a mistake, since it gave the hand that reached across the bed a better grasp on his throat.

As Loki instinctively reached up to grasp at his neck, the hand began dragging him backwards, trying to pull him over the side of the bed. Loki was about to let go, to hold onto the bedside and keep himself from going over, when he felt it: the heavy, leaden weight of magic plunging into him.

The same magic he had used on Odin, except instead of just pushing him further into slumber, this was to put him into the Sleep in the first place.

“ _No_ ,” he gasped, scrabbling at the hand again, pushing back against the magic with all he could give, but it was _so heavy_.

The hand succeeding in hauling him onto the bed, and as Loki felt furs rucking up beneath him, Odin came into view above him. His face held that same unreadable calm that had tormented Loki for years, except for his eye. His one blue eye blazed with a terrible fury.

“ _No_ – _you_ –” Loki rasped out, but he didn't know what he wanted to say. And it didn't matter, since Odin's second hand joined the first on his neck and doubled the force of the magic weighing him down. Loki dug his nails into the hands as his legs jerking uselessly against the furs, and threw his magic against the weight.

The Sleep wasn't _his_ , it was Odin's, and it felt _wrong_. Yet as Odin's magic pushed and pushed he could feel it seeping into his bones, laying itself in his marrow. He battered back with his magic, but it was like a kitten battering its paws against a stone wall.

“You will not lead Asgard into ruin with your _lies_ ,” Odin snarled. “I will not allow it, not any _longer_.”

( _Any longer_ , as if Odin had just been biding his time, never truly under Loki's spell.)

The magic pressed down on Loki, and his eyelids fluttered. His hands loosened their grip on Odin's.

_No, no,_ he wanted to protest. _No, I won't ruin Asgard, I'll die afterwards, I promise. Thor loves me more dead anyway. Maybe he'll forgive me, in the end, so long as I don't return._

_Maybe, if I die in battle, I might be allowed into Valhalla. If only for a moment._

_(I might see Mother again.)_

But the hands pressed down on his throat, and he didn't have the breath to speak. Loki gave up trying to wrench the hands from his throat and as he bared his teeth he reached up. He pushed against Odin's shoulders, his face, and threw the last dregs of his magic against Odin, like droplets of water against against a raging fire.

But his limbs were weak. His eyelids were heavy. His magic fizzled and sparked and did nothing.

_It would be so easy, though. As easy as letting go._

Except then he couldn't stop Thanos. He would never be free, of Asgard, of this body.

_Just kill me, Odin, it's all I'm good for anyway._

_Don't make me stay here._

Loki could no longer keep his hands up, and they fell limply down into the furs. His legs stilled. His eyesight blurred.

The hands on his throat let up and he _breathed_ , but the magic push relentlessly down, and Loki had nothing left to fight with.

“You may still be able to think in the Sleep,” Odin's voice said from so very far away, his voice so _cold_. “But rest assured, Thanos will get his due. And when I am finished with him, so will you.”

Odin fell silent, and the world grew dark.

_Father, please_ –

The Sleep washed over him, and Loki closed his eyes.


End file.
